Out of Breath (Breathing, #3)(57)

‘For what?’ she asked, like she had no idea what I was talking about.

‘Are you serious?’ I scoffed. ‘I’ve been a selfish lunatic the past two days. And you’ve had to drag my sorry ass around the entire time, taking care of me every minute. I’m so sorry that I’m an awful friend.’

Sara shook her head, nudging my shoulder with hers. ‘You needed me. And I was there for you. It’s that simple. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t drink … ever again.’

I laughed lightly. ‘I will never touch vodka again, that’s for sure.’

‘Me neither.’ Sara smirked. ‘And I’m sorry about … you know …’ She eyed me cautiously, having a hard time finishing. ‘About what I said at the hotel … and staying at Evan’s.’

‘We don’t need to talk about it,’ I told her, taking another bite of the burger, unable to stop wondering where he was. Whether he’d stayed and was downstairs, or if he’d already driven home.

‘Thanks. I really appreciate you helping me out,’ I said before hanging up. I turned to find Jared behind me.

‘Who was that?’ he enquired, eyeing the untouched plate of food Anna had handed to me when I arrived. ‘Are you going to eat that?’

‘Go for it,’ I encouraged him. ‘I’m surprised you’re here.’ I diverted the conversation from his initial question.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ he asked, sitting down at the glass-topped table on the enclosed porch, stuffing his face with garlic bread.

‘That you’re in Sara’s house,’ I clarified. ‘That’s … bold of you. To show your face here.’

‘I think her dad was about to slam the door when he saw me.’

I laughed.

‘What, do you think you’re going to earn points by sticking around and helping them clean up?’

‘I’m not going to push it,’ he said, working on the lasagne slice.

‘So … do you mind driving me to the airport tomorrow?’

I crumpled up the paper bag and rested my head back against the couch.

‘There you are,’ I heard Anna say from the landing. I turned my head to find her walking towards us. ‘Sara, could you give us a minute, please?’

My stomach swirled uncomfortably at her request.

‘I’ll be downstairs,’ Sara told me, letting her mother take her place on the couch.

‘Come here, Emma.’ Anna invited me to lean against her, her arm spread wide. My heart twisted as I leaned in to her, allowing her to wrap her arm around me. I inhaled her elegant floral scent and closed my eyes as she ran her fingers through my short hair. ‘You’ve had a hard time the last couple of days, and I’m so sorry.’

I swallowed, unable to form words.

‘We’ll take care of you,’ she murmured into the top of my head, kissing me gently. ‘I think you should talk to someone about what’s going on inside of you, though. I can only imagine what you must be feeling.’

I remained silent, not at all tempted to explore the explosive range of emotions shredding my insides.

‘I worry about you all the time,’ she continued. ‘I don’t know how to make you feel safe. And as a mother, that’s all I ever want for you and Sara. For you to feel safe and loved.’

‘I do,’ I whispered. ‘I always do when I’m in your house.’

‘I wish you could feel the same when you leave it.’

We sat in silence for a moment longer, my head resting against her chest, listening to her heart. Her thin arms held me with a strength that did make me feel safe and loved within them.

‘Can I ask you something?’ I said in a hushed tone.

‘Of course,’ she encouraged me.

‘Did she … did she really hang herself?’ I closed my eyes, bracing for her answer.

‘Yes, she did,’ Anna answered, gentle but firm.

‘Where?’

‘At the house on Decatur Street.’

Air rushed from my lungs. ‘From the banister?’

‘Yes.’

My chest felt tight, like there wasn’t any room left to breathe. Like I was suffocating in pain.

‘Did she suffer?’

‘No,’ I heard Anna whisper, her voice breaking.

I pulled back to look at her, and tears trailed down her face.

‘Why?’ I asked, my eyes stinging with each blink.

Anna’s just shook her head. ‘I don’t know. She didn’t leave a note. But even if she had, I don’t know if she’d ever be able to truly explain why she chose to end her life. I’m so sorry, Emma.’

‘Thank you,’ I replied, my chin quivering. Witnessing Anna’s pain was almost too much to bear. ‘You were always so good to her … through everything. And thank you for everything you’ve done the past week. I know I haven’t been much help, and I’m sorry.’

‘Do not apologize,’ Anna insisted, wiping her cheeks and blowing out of her pursed lips. ‘Carl and I care about you. And we’ll help you through this.’

‘Thank you,’ I repeated.

‘Do you have to go back to California tomorrow?’

I nodded.

‘I know,’ she responded with a saddened understanding. ‘But will you consider speaking to someone, like I asked?’